Call of the Blood
by Black-Alice
Summary: A young witch is bitten by a werewolf & infected. Jobless Remus Lupin is employed to teach her to deal with it.Will Remus keep her from Voldemort? But will her werewolf urges carry her back to the Dark Lord? Rated for Violence & Rape
1. Last Moon

**Disclaimer: No Mine.**

**Last, Best Moon**

I was sixteen when it happened. I was a good girl, a good student and a good kid. I liked my brothers and loved my parents. I was entering my sixth year at Merlin and Bella's School for Magical Instruction and I was planning my future with relish. I was happy and I was _normal_.

Our family was planning our first vacation to Scotland during the summer holidays of my fifth year when we started seeing posters up around town with warnings of a rogue werewolf. Living in a more magical section of South Wales, it was usual to see the moving posters around. Mum and Dad were pretty worried and none of us were allowed out after dark, but I put a few protective spells on the house to calm their fears. Mum and Dad aren't magical folks, but Matthew my older brother and Anthony, my younger brother and I are all muggle-born.

But as with a lot of warnings and wanted posters, we began to forget about it within a few days. No one was attacked and no more sightings occurred. There was no reason to think the werewolf was still in the area. Unfortunately for me, he was still lurking and I was his target.

000

The morning we were going to leave for Scotland, I went out to the bakery for donuts and coffee at the corner café. It was normal for one of us to run down the street for buns and scones and I didn't think twice about it. The day was bright and cheerful and it didn't bother me that there was no one else in the street. I was told later that he had been loitering near our house all night and that he had hidden himself well so there was no way I could have known. But I should have known, I should have sensed something or heard something, anything that warned me of his attack. I didn't know anything was wrong until his arms wrapped around me and dragged me into a narrow juncture between two businesses.

I slammed up against the brick wall, his weight pinning me in place, his shallow, breathing exploding against my neck. I tried to scream but his hand descended over my mouth and the next thing I knew a silencing charm tingled over us. I sobbed and cried uselessly as his pulled me close and apparated us away.

The sickening lurch of aparation was instantly forgotten in the pain that lanced through my body as I was forced against the filthy wall of the basement cell and removed his hand. He fumbled with my clothes and the next minute he had my wand between his fingers and out of my reach. With his forefinger and thumb, he snapped it before my eyes and I felt hope drain out of me. I had no idea where I was but I knew no one was going to find me in this God forsaken place. Leaning close, he pressed his nose against my throat, feeding off my fear. I shuddered and felt my stomach lurched, bile rising in my throat. His hands roamed, violating every inch of my body.

I pried an arm loose and dragged my nails into his cheek, blood welling in deep, red ranks across his face. As blood dripped down his skin, he snarled and flung me away to the metal bed where I fell, cracking my head against the rusty headboard. I saw black for several long moments and when I came to he forced a vial of potion to my lips and reflexively I swallowed.

The next moment I slumped back and watched in dazed horror as he removed my clothing. My limbs were heavy and deep weight, my jaw slack and wordless as I watched my rape from a far away place. I was conscious of his wild eyed surprise as he tore through my virginity. After, he touched me with perverted gentleness, avoiding my breast, mouth and arms; turning my head to the right so he could caress the vein that ran down the left side of my neck and disappeared into my collarbone.

I couldn't tell you want happened then, I retreated to a far corner of my mind and when I woke he was still there, sitting beside me, caressing the vein in my throat. The room was lit by one dark lamp in a corner and I was stiff and sore all over my body. My tongue was thick in my mouth and my eyes were stale and dry. Seeing I was awake, he spoke for the first time.

"I have been kind to you, my love. Yes, I have been kind. I could have torn you to shreds, but I would have nothing mar this pale skin. Nothing stains your body, I have healed the wounds you inflected on yourself," he ran his hand down the vein and stalled just above my breast, "But I will mark you and you will learn to bear the mark with pride."

He leaned down until I stared into his pale green eyes, "You see my beauty, Iam a selfish beast and what I desire, I wish to conform to my image. But I know that you would never seek me out as we are now. Therefore, I will mark you mine and I will lay permanent claim to you as my own."

I eyes grew wide in horror as I realized what he was saying. Comprehension boiled through me and I quivered in dumb terror. He smiled at this reaction and continued his speech as he stroked the vein.

"It will be painful at first, he whispered, his breath hot and intimate against my skin, "But pain will soon be a companion to you and you will cease to fear it. If you bear the destiny well you will embrace pain. He curled a lock of my hair around his finger admiring the yellow taint, "How beautifully you do not protest. It is as if you understood the great vocation you face. I could almost love you for it."

He rose undisturbed by the revulsion gleaming in my eyes. He stood under the window of the basement and stared up into the sky.

"The moon is covered for now, but soon the clouds will recede and you will have the first real glimpse of the glory of what you will become," his head snapped toward me and his voice grew hard edged, "I smell your fear," he said, "And I understand. There are ways to for control of the inward beast, you will learn them too. I will not kill you."

As the last words left his lips the moon beamed her pearly white light down onto the world. As he fell to the floor in agony, I glued my eyes to the window and drank in the light of the moon with all my being; the pure blue-white glow soaking into my eyes until I felt as if my entire body was illuminated with it. My last, best full moon.

As the werewolf convulsed on the floor, the bare furnishings in the room fell or broke from the force of his thrashing limbs. Scream erupted from his throat and gurgles of torture His cries turned from pained to glee and the snapping of bone and tearing of flesh ceased.

But it all ended when the creator rose and stalked to my side where I lay, helpless and weak. I caught a glance at the yellow eyes and bared fangs before I returned to the brilliant moon. I felt the panting breathing on my skin, the hot laving of the tongue on my throat over the pulsing vein. Fear bubbled to a peak, and then the horrible piercing pain of fangs through my flesh.

I screamed and screamed and screamed.

_**TBC--**_


	2. Contaminated

Disclaimer: Not Mine!

**Fully Contaminated**

"A full dose of the saliva was delivered into the blood stream several times, from what we can see," the voice of the doctors floated above my head to my parents, "I'm afraid that the prognosis is correct. Your daughter has a full blown case of lycanthropia."

"Oh my God," Mum broke down crying and buried her face in Dad's shoulder as he wrapped one arm around her and clasped my hands with his.

"Is there anything we can do? Isn't there a potion or treatment for Angela's condition?" he asked in a choked voice.

"It isn't a condition, Dad, it's a curse," I mumbled.

The mediwizard frowned and said, "It is a form of magical curse, Mr. Millay, but there is no counter charm or potion that can remove it. Some authorities believe that the death of the attacker by the victim is the only cure however this has never been proven. There is no guarantee that if Angela took the life of her assailant she was be alleviated of her condition."

"Then she's going to be like ---this for the rest of her life?" Mum asked wiping her tears away with a handkerchief, "I don't see how magic can have so many advances when there isn't a better treatment for Angela."

"Mrs. Millay, I want to assure you that everything will be done to help your daughter. But you have to understand that there hasn't been a break through in the treatment of lycanthropia since the invention of wolfsbane," he handed Dad a pamphlet on the subject and perched on the edge of his desk.

He was a young mediwizard, still handsome and fresh faced, but we had been assured that he was the best living authority on the management of werewolves. So far we hadn't been told anything that would make me normal, but even I knew that wasn't going to happen. I felt the changes taking place in my mind, body and behavior. The bite mark on my neck had faded slightly since the attack but it ached constantly, adding to the legion of new pain that I was plagued with.

My throat hurt where I had been bitten. My skin was hyper sensitive as was my hearing, sense of smell and eye sight. The overloading of sensory information caused another variety of torture to my life.

I had been found two days after I had been bitten. My unconscious, drugged, raped and infected body had been deposited at a public park where I was found by a muggle policeman. When I was examined and awake, I had been interrogated by two ministry officials who helped me to remove the memories of the event from my mind. They needed more evidence to help identify the werewolf who had bitten me. Because I had been dosed so heavily with potion, I couldn't remember what he looked like only his voice.

The ministry left with my memories and promised that they would be available if I should ever wish to view them. I couldn't imagine that I ever would.

"That's it?" Dad said in disgust, "That's all you can do for her?"

"It's the best we can do at this point, Mr. Millay. Lycanthropy affects every aspect of the human body and appears to bond strongest with witches and wizard than with muggles such as yourselves. While wolfsbane does more good to muggles with lycanthropy, the best we can hope with Angela is that it will aid her in transformation and keeping her mind during the full moon."

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

My voice sounded dull and hollow to my ears and a small silence followed my question. Mum and Dad took my hands again, but I looked up at the mediwizard for my answer. There was something in his manner that let me know he wasn't going to pull any punches.

"By all accounts the transformation is extremely painful," he answered, "Pain relievers don't have any effect on the patients which seems to be an arbitrary result of the infection. The closet we can come is wolfsbane."

Dad asked, "How do we get some? And what do we do when the full moon comes? We've only got two weeks until it happens and we still haven't gotten anywhere with how to deal with the transformation safely."

"That was going to be my next point," the doctor stood and went around to a cabinet, "I have a list of potions suppliers that you may purchase wolfsbane from but I have to warn you that it is very expensive. It is one of the most difficult potions to brew."

"That doesn't matter," Dad said stoutly, "We'll take care of that. What else?"

"I would like to admit Angela into a care program we have here at St. Mungo's when we can observe her and care for her during the first moon. She could continue her schooling while she's here and receive the greatest amount of care we can offer her during the initial period."

"How long would she have to be here?" Mum asked. She reached out and pulled my hair out of my eyes and began smoothing it over and over. She always does that when she's nervous or worried and she'd been doing a lot more since the attack. My now overly sensitive skin twinged whenever I was touched, but I didn't tell her.

"We'd like Angela to be with us for a month at most. Considering the level of infection it may be the safest thing until we can be sure that she is no threat to herself or others." His eyes dropped to me, "Would you like that Angela?"

"Can I get a glass of water?" I answered instead, "I'm really thirsty."

"Sure, there's a water cooler down the hall to your right," he replied.

I slipped out of the room and allowed the door to sigh shut behind me. There was a silencing ward on the door; but as I pressed my ear to the wood and murmured a removal charm, I could make out what my parents were saying.

"_She's been so quiet lately that I don't know what she's feeling half the time," _Mum wept,_ "She just sits and stares out the window with this hopeless look in her eyes—I feel like I've lost her."_

"_She won't even talk to the boys, she wants to be alone all the time." _Dad added.

"_Self imposed isolation is usual in these cases. Angela probably feels the changes taking place in her body and fears what they mean for you and herself. In all likelihood she is afraid that she'll harm you or your other children if she is near them. You're going to have to learn to deal with her desire to be alone until she can cope with her condition better. She needs you to understand more than ever before in her life." _The doctor spoke gently.

"_But I feel as if she's going through a depression that I can't begin to help her with and that frustrates me,"_ Mum said angrily, _"First we couldn't protect from attack and now I have no way of helping her cope. She hasn't even cried yet."_

"_Mrs. Millay, you have to recognize that there is no way for you to understand what your daughter is going through. Angela is in depression, deeply, but that in itself is the beginning of her coping mechanism. You have to let her work through this pain on her own. You will not always be at her side to help her along. And if Angela becomes dependent on you know she won't be able to function."_

"_But that can't be all we can do!" _dad protested,_ "She's our little girl."_

"_Mr. Millay, your little girl is a werewolf."_

"_You son of a bitch!"_

"_Richard don't!"_

"_Mr. Millay you have to come to reality! Your daughter is capable of not only killing you but your entire family as well. You cannot treat her like a child any longer. That doesn't mean you have to stop loving her or caring for her, but the terms of that love __**must**__ change. The methods of your care have to be overhauled."_

"_It's for Angela, Richard," _Mum was trying to soothe Dad; _"We have to do it for her." _

"_What if she doesn't want to come here?" _Dad murmured.

I pressed closer to the door and ignored the look an orderly gave me as he passed. I could hear the pounding of his heart as he walked by and I was seized with an uncontrollable desire to tell him to shut the hell up. I even opened my mouth to speak when I realized the stupidity of such a request. Instead, I returned to the door in time to listen.

"_Angela is still underage. If she resists confinement it may come up to you to sign her in. For her own good."_

Mum broke in,_ "Isn't there anything else we can do?"_

I shuddered and pushed away from the door, my heart thumping wildly in my chest. The thought of forced imprisonment in St. Mungo's was terrifying. I stumbled down the hall passed nurses and mediwitches and patients—were they werewolves? Not everyone was. I came to the water cooler and picked up a small paper cup in my hands. I stared at the swirling pattern on the wax side. It looked like the pattern of the bite mark on my throat. I slowly drove my thumbnail into the wax covered paper until it tore. Slowly, slowly, I tore the cup to shreds and let them fall to the ground.

For her own good, they had said.

I was suddenly cold and pulled my sweater close around me. The people walking by didn't notice me and I slipped into a heavily padded armchair in the waiting area. It wrapped its enchanted arms around me in comfort and warmth as it was made to do. I laid my head against the back and felt the warm leather against my skin; it smelled of perfume from the person who sat there before me. It was strangely comforting and safe. I wasn't moving if I could help it. And I would run away before I would allow them to keep me in this sterile, world.

000

I was laying on my bed when my door opened and Matthew stuck his head around the door.

"Can I come in?" he asked.

I shrugged, "I guess."

He closed the door and sat on the pink covered stool that sat before my vanity table. I hadn't used it since I came home and it suddenly appeared ridiculous for it to be in my room at all.

"How'd it go at St. Mungo's?"

"I'm a werewolf."

He nodded his curly dark head and pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose, "What are you going to do?"

"Mum and Dad were talking to the mediwizard and saying that they'd like to keep me there for the first full moon," I answered rolling to my side and looking at him blankly, "For my safety."

"It might be for the best, you never know," he said crossing his long arms over his chest and crossing his legs, "Since you won't be coming back to school."

"What did they say?"

"They were curious as to why you were withdrawing but they allowed it. You're a good enough student so if you ever wanted to go back they'd let you. And they let me know that should you choose to attend another institution they would write a recommendation."

"That's nice," I dropped my head down onto my pillows; "I'll miss them."

"You've been getting hundreds of owls from your chums and Tony and I've been writing back that you're too sick to answer," he smiled sadly, "I've lied hundreds of times that you've read their cards."

"They all say the same things," I answered sullenly.

"They mean it, Ange," Matthew answered sternly.

"I know."

He stands and stretches, "I thought you might like to have a head's up that Mum and Dad want to talk to you after supper. My guess is it has something to do with St. Mungo's."

"I won't go, Matthew."

"I don't know how much of a choice you've got," he answered, "But if you need help; remember that I'm legally allowed to use magic outside of school now."

It was a huge offer. Matthew could be arrested and have his wand snapped if he aided a werewolf in escaping confinement during the full moon. Unlike Anthony, who couldn't even look at me now, Matthew had approached my condition with a kind of scientific frankness that was just impersonal enough to be comfortable for me and personal enough to let me know he cared.

"Thanks, but you don't have to do that," I tried and failed to smile, "St. Mungo's probably isn't that bad."

"If you change your mind—" He left.

As soon as he was out of hearing I was up like a shot and locking the door. My heart was beating erratically and my legs were itching to be moving, far and fast. My entire body was overcome by the need to move and move anywhere fast. I needed—I needed to prowl.


	3. Creator Verus Teacher

**Creator and Teacher**

I found him before he found me. In fact, when I found him he was sitting on a park bench, in tweed pants and coat with a cane twirling between his fingers. He looked like a dandy from an old fashioned music hall. A bowler hat rested on the back of his head and a bright pink carnation blossomed in his lapel.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded dragging my sweater tight over my shoulders as I was suddenly cold.

"The question really is what are you doing here?" his teeth flashed white in a cruel smile, "I didn't seek you out, Angela. What could make you seek out your rapist?"

I blinked, "I could have you arrested, killed. People are on the search for you."

"And they can try to find me of course," he examined his fingernails, "But I sincerely doubt they'll succeed. There is something about werewolves that allows us to slip under the radar of the rest of humanity. Besides, you won't tell anyone where I am will you?"

"You don't know anything about me," I grinded out, "How can you tell me what I will and won't do? I could be ready to hex you from this side of the globe to the other and you mightn't know it."

"Come, come, Angela," he said his causal use of my name slipping from his lips like foul oil; "We both know that you don't have a wand. And why do you think that is?"

"Oh, I don't know. You broke it maybe?"

"Yes, I did," he grinned again, "Couldn't have you hexing me then could I? But that is not my point. Haven't you wondered why they haven't got you a new wand?"

"We haven't had time; I was in hospital," I said dully, "Trying to save me from becoming a werewolf."

"Pity. Waste of good money that. You might have realized at this point that I made sure you wouldn't be able to be saved."

"The thought had occurred to me," I circled him until I stood several yards away directly before him, "Why did you do this to me?"

His eyes flashed to mine, "What do you want me to say Angela? Do you want me to have some higher purpose? Some higher reason for your rape and infection?"

I trembled. He had guessed my question, "Why wouldn't they give me a new wand?"

"Because now you're a creature of the night, Angela. You can't be trusted not to use your wand for evil purposes. Oh, they might not believe that you would intend to kill and devour another human being, but you wouldn't be in your right mind."

"There's wolfsbane."

He scoffed, "All it does it maintain sanity during transformation and the sanity is almost worse than insanity. Time passes quickly when you're unconscious."

"I know you're wrong," I argued feeling my heart sink, "I'm sure you're wrong."

"No you're not," he sat forward and balanced the cane over his hands, elbows on knees, "Has it started yet? I figured that by this time you would be experiencing everything about lycanthropy."

"You mean this?" I threw my hands wide indicting the park, "Needing to walk-- to run for hours? Needing to eat everything in sight and not feeling satisfied or gain an ounce of weight? I eat enough for two people and I've lost weight."

"Yes, that usually happens," he nodded. He pulled the flower from his button hole and played with it.

"There is something highly sensual about lycanthropy," he said twirled the carnation between his fingers. Snapping the head off, he turned to grin at me through the darkness, "Wouldn't you agree Angela?"

"I'm in pain all the time," I said, "I wouldn't call that sensual."

"Well, you wouldn't know would you?" he tossed back sarcastically, "Virgin."

"Not anymore. You took care of that," I growled angrily. I shot toward him, my hands raised but he didn't try to keep me back. Instead he smiled and a gleam leapt into his eyes.

I stopped dead and dropped my hands, "You bastard."

He grabbed my wrists and yanked me closer, pulling my body flush against his. So close his eyes bored into mine, "You won't be able to stop it, Angela. You'll grow more and more desperate for friends, for companions, for understanding. No one you know will be able to appreciate what you're becoming."

"That's not true, the doctors--"

"You think that some mediwitch or wizard can really know the power and glory of your body? Do they comprehend the beauty of emotional changes rippling through your mind?"

"My family then…"

"Your younger brother is afraid of you. You're older brother is dealing with you like a stranger and you're parents want to lock you away in St.Mungo's. Oh yes, they understand."

"They're only doing it for my good," I answered, "To keep me safe and them, now that I can kill them. They're not going to lock me away for good. They know I wouldn't hurt them."

"Really? Did you know that at this moment your parents have alerted the Ministry? The city is crawling with Aurors who are all looking for you in the fear that you might be eating or infecting other one of the human race."

"They wouldn't hurt me," I answered shakily, "They're probably looking for you."

"They don't know where I am," he answered.

"I'll tell them how to find you."

"I doubt it and if you look into your heart, you know it's true," He released me and stood, "And you will find that no one will even try to value you for what you have become."

"I hate what I've become," I spat, "It's your fault! You did this to me!"

"Yes. I did. I have made you more powerful than you would have ever been on your own. You think you hate being a werewolf now, but you'll change your tune when you realize the full potential of your new life."

"Like hell I will," I answered. I looked toward the gate and saw a few people were milling around and pointing as us. Some of them looked like Aurors, "I never want to see you again."

"You'll change your mind," he stood and watched the approaching Aurors with interest, "In the end, Angela, you'll come to me."

I didn't answer and when the Aurors were close enough to call out to us. I moved toward them. As I walked away I could hear the werewolf behind me apparte away.

**CALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHE**

"Why wasn't I contacted before this?" Remus asked as he followed Kingsley Shacklebolt down the narrow hallway of number 12 Grimmauld Place, "I should have been told the minute the diagnosis was clear."

"We received the information a few hours ago from St.Mungos. Apparently the owl was waylaid by the high winds. By the time we received the Intel another message arrived saying the girl was missing from her home," Kingsley explained his deep calm voice soothing the werewolf's ruffled feathers, "no one was trying to make it difficult, Lupin."

Remus looked abashed, "Of course, Kingsley, I'm sorry."

The Auror shrugged, "She's inside," he said pausing before the sitting room door, "I'm off to collect her parents."

"Right, see you later then,' Remus nodded and grasping the doorknob stepped into the dark, gloomy sitting room.

As his super sensitive eyes took only a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room and find the outline of the teenage girl huddling on the low couch. She was watching him from under heavy blond bangs and hugging her arms around her body; she was shivering slightly.

Dropping her folder of information on the coffee table, Remus pulled up one of the numerous chairs and gestured toward her, "That's part of it; being cold all the time."

"Part of what?" she asked dumbly, her pinched face confused.

"Part of being a werewolf," he said flatly, "Your circulation system has changed and the blood does not flow as swiftly causing the cold."

"Who are you?" she asked as if she hadn't heard anything he had said.

"I am Professor Remus Lupin," he introduced himself and offered his hand.

She stared at the proffered hand as if surprised he dared touch her. Slowly she wiggled one hand free and leaning forward grasped his hand lightly. Tightening his grip, Remus turned her hand over and examined the skin. She tried to pull away but he gave her a look that showed he meant her no harm. Angela watched the gentle man as he inspected the back of her knuckles and both sides of her wrist, his fingers ghosting over the delicate skin of her inner wrist. He glanced up when she shuddered at the tender touch and he instantly released her.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable," he apologized.

"I suppose it doesn't matter," she said but tucked her hand under her arm again, "I suppose you know who I am."

"Exactly, I don't even know your name," Remus replied turning to take the folder from the table behind him, "I have this of course but I prefer for you to tell me."

"My name?"

"Anything you like."

"Are you a doctor?" She asked.

Remus shook his head, "I'm afraid not."

"Then why am I talking to you? Do my parents know where I am?"

"Your parents are on their way, and you're talking to me because you were wandering the streets of London alone," he informed her.

"If you know that then you know why everyone is turning London up side down to look for me."

"You're a werewolf," Remus said, "Nothing remarkable about that."

Angela's blue eyes widen in shock and outrage and her mouth dropped open, "What?"

"You're a werewolf, not a unicorn. You don't get special treatment because you can change into a wolf." He said unapologetically his brown eyes were hard and unsympathetic. It was a strange and sudden change.

She frowned and said angrily, "I could kill someone. I could murder my parents…"

"Anyone with the know how can do that, even a muggle," Remus pointed out brutally.

Tears sprang to Angela's eyes. She was hurting but Remus knew he couldn't stop until she broke, "But I—I can make other werewolves."

"So can I."

"What!" she was on her feet, her hands fisted, two pink spots flaming in her cheeks. Angela's heart was hammering so hard in her chest that Lupin could hear it from his chair.

"What do you mean you can make other werewolves?"

"I mean," Remus replied, his expression softening and growing kindly, "That I am a werewolf as well."

"Oh."

The word dropped from her lips like a sigh and the then next moment she was crying, sobbing violently. Remus stood and took her gently by the shoulders directing her to her seat on the plush couch. Although she stiffened at his touch, she allowed him to sit beside her and accepted the handkerchief he handed her.

Tears, hot and huge poured down her cheeks soaking her shirt and the handkerchief quickly. Her whole body was shaking as if she was freezing. Great sobs broke from her lips propelled by the force of her emotions; Angela could hardily breathe as she cried. Remus stayed beside her and when the door was opened by an orderly he waved them away.

"I can't believe this happened to me," she jerked out, "I never did anything to anyone."

Remus said nothing but listened, his eyes full of understanding.

"Now my family is terrified of me—I'm afraid of myself—I'm terrified of the pain and what it might do to me," she struggled, rocking back and forth, "I should be stronger and I should bear with it better but I can't—"she tried to say the words but the tears overwhelmed her, "—can't."

She wept as the minutes ticked by and Remus handed her tissue after tissue. He never said a word but listened to the familiar case of the young werewolf. He couldn't remember how he had felt after he had been bitten the details were foggy in is mind; but seeing the torment the girl was going through tore at his heart. She was destroyed both physically and mentally and spiritually; everything she had known was now against her.

Slowly the tears dried up. She balled the tissues in her fist and sit in silence, a hiccup erupting once or twice. She turned her red rimmed blue eyes on him, "What's going to happen to me?"

"That depends every much on what your parents want and want the ministry allows," Remus said carefully, "If you want to remain at home you're going to need someone to look after you for a while as you grow accustomed to your new life. But if the ministry looks down on this last incident then I don't know what will happen."

"What did you do when it happened to you? Did you have to leave school?" Angela asked.

"I was going to a muggle school at the time," Remus said, "I was only seven years old."

Angela's eyes widened but she only said, "I'm sorry."

"It's in the past," Remus said, "What we need to do is think about the present," he stood and grabbed her file, "Your name is?"

"Angela Millay," Angela said she looked down at her hands that were still knotted over the tissues. Remus merely smiled.

"I'm pleased to meet you. If you wish we can go and see if your parents have arrived yet—they were sent for as soon as you were recovered."

"Thanks," she muttered. She made a move toward the door and stopped, "Did they let you go to a wizard school and get a wand and everything?"

Remus nodded, "Yes, they did but only after I learned to deal with lycanthropy—I was ten."

"Where did you go?"

"Hogwarts."

"Really?" Angela swallowed, "I never knew that they took werewolves."

Remus suddenly smiled his worn face relaxing comfortably, "With the exception of a few, I think it is safe to say that most of them didn't know they took werewolves either."


	4. Hogwarts

**Disclaimer: Not Mine!**

**Hogwarts**

It was a gray, drizzling morning when Professor Lupin and I boarded the Hogwarts express. The steam boiled from the engine in great jets of white, vanishing in the miserable weather that had proved to be the coldest summer in thirty years. I had heard of Hogwarts, of course; everyone had heard of it. But neither I nor my brothers had be among her students. We were sent to a small magical boarding school in South Wales. My father didn't have a great job and the small school was affordable for us; Hogwarts was for the ambitious and the blessed.

While the mysterious prospect tantalized my mind, my body was being less than cooperative. I was fagged. I felt as if I had run a marathon and swum the English Channel all in one night. I had the urge to devour everything in sight despite the fact that none really seemed to satisfy the hunger inside of me. I had almost choked when Mr. Lupin had asked about my daily habits. I had been hiding my nightly feasts and until that Mument believed my midnight walks were unknown. Wrong again, but I was getting used to that. Mr. Lupin had been firm and almost a little mean; however, after his admonishments of the previous day, Professor Lupin had been nothing but kind.

I shifted on my side of the couch and wrapped my cloak around me more snuggly. It was just another effect of the lycanthropy; I was always freezing cold. Professor Lupin sat across from me reading a magazine and munching on a chocolate bar. I was beginning to suspect he always carried a suitcase of the stuff with him because the aroma hung on his shabby cloak and jacket.

His eyes flickered up to mine and caught my fixed stare. Instead of returning to his reading he offered me a bar of the candy.

"No thanks," I answered turning my head away.

"Eat it, Angela, you may not have said anything about being hungry but I know you are," he leaned forward bringing the chocolate closer. I smelled the sweet and bitter scent and my mouth began to water. I was about to retort something when my stomach growled loudly.

"Angela," Professor Lupin smiled and offered the chocolate.

"How did you know?" I caved in accepting the candy. I quickly broke it into separate squares and arranged them on the wrapper.

"It's quite usual the closer we get to the full moon. We'll feel sicker and more worn out as the days go by. It's an effect of the moon waxing toward fullness that brings us to a more vulnerable state."

"And chocolate helps?" I asked eyeing the square that was rapidly melting on my finger tip.

He gave a slightly embarrassed smile, "Well, as a young woman, I'm sure you know the benefits of eating chocolate during certain times of the month."

I flushed and looked out of the window, "I didn't think of it like that. The doctors said that I wouldn't be getting my periods anymore because of the –condition. They said it was part of the curse—not being able to have kids."

"Yes, I know," he said awkwardly, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I answered forcing myself to look back at him, "I wasn't about to start a family or anything. Now that I can't I don't feel too much different."

I ate my chocolate and Professor Lupin returned to his magazine. I was surprised at how quickly I felt satisfied and full. The hunger was still hovering at the back of my mind but I no longer felt like I had a bottomless pit in my stomach. I yanwed hugly and Professor Lupin followed suit.

"How are you feeling? Better I hope?" he asked.

"Much better thanks," I answered, "But I'm deadbeat."

"Unfortunately that is something we are forced to deal with on our own," he answered, "As far as I know there is nothing we can do about it," he explained ruefully, "The best we can do it to try and get some sleep. We've a few hours to go and I suggest you get as much rest as you can before we arrive."

"Alright," I wasn't about to argue.

I bunched up my travel pillow and lay across the seat under my cloak. Rain had just begun to spit against the windows and the ventilators rumbled to air as I allowed my exhausted body to sink into the cushions. Professor Lupin crossed his legs and picked up another magazine as sleep pulled at my eyes. Soon the gentle sway of the train and my own weariness rocked me into a deep and dreamless sleep.

**CALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHE**

After my nighttime escapade, Mum and Dad came into my room. I was always in there now because I didn't think that I should risk another confrontation with the Aurors or the police or—my sire. After I had seen him in the park, I had sat in my room and stared at the bite mark on my throat. Some dark magic kept it from healing completely despite the efforts of the best cosmetic mediwizard in Scotland. It was as much part of me as lycanthropy; the werewolf mark, his mark—my mark.

The sight of it bothered my family. Dad said nothing only looked hurt. Mum would hug me a lot and buy me high necked sweaters and shirts; she must have gone out of her way because it was summer. Anthony would pale and cry sometimes. I knew something was going to happen because of the conference with the ministry and Remus Lupin. When my parents came into my room I could see that they had made a decision.

"Hi sweetie," Dad said, "Do you mind if I come in?"

"No," I answered turning around away from my mirror facing them. Mum eased onto the bed and Dad took the seat at the piano. He looked at my Mum but she gave him a silent signal to go ahead.

"Your mother and I have been talking about things—about what we should do for you. We've had a lot to think about and I wanted you to know that we've decided that you shouldn't go to St. Mungos."

I couldn't keep the relief from flooding my features. I wrapped my arms around my middle and sighed, "Thank you," I whispered.

"What we have chosen to do instead," Mum went on, "is to try ad find someone who can teach you how to deal with your lycanthropy but who can support you if you need it. Hopefully there'll be someone who can come here so you don't have to travel."

"Besides traveling will be difficult for you until the Ministry can be sure you're capable of handling everything yourself," Dad said. He smiled, "I know you can beat this thing, Honey and I want you to know that your Mum and I are behind you all the way."

Three days later he said came into my room and told me they had found a teacher for me. For some reason I was incredibly shy to meet this person; the more because it was a man. I hadn't let them tell me anything about him because I wanted to form my own opinions about him. I had always been that way even in school. I would plug my ears and hum loudly so I couldn't hear anything my friends said about a teacher. This time my folks didn't even try to tell me anything.

When we arrived at the ministry I was surprised to see Professor Lupin waiting for us. I noticed also that he looked a little out of place in the bustle of men and women in slick suits and fashionable robes. He was shabby, very shabby. They shook hands all around but I pretended not to see the hand he offered.

"How are you Angela?" he asked softly. Everything he said was soft.

"She's been a little feverish," Mum supplied, "And she hasn't been eating normally since Sunday."

"The doctor said it could be part of the depression Angie's fighting off," Dad put his arm around my shoulders protectively.

"Well," Professor Lupin smiled, "Come this way. Edwin Pucey is going to over see this case and I was asked to attend considering my own involvement in the case so far. I hope you don't mind."

I shrugged. Mum and Dad said nothing. No one said anything until we reached the highly polished oak office of Edwin Paul Pucey. He was smallish man who looked comfortable and pudgy in his dark blue suit. He murmured a welcome to each of us and didn't shy from taking my hand firmly. I decided I liked him.

He waved us all into chairs and sat, his hands folded over his middle his eyes sliding from Professor Lupin to me and back again; it was as if he was trying to gauge the differences and similarities between us. In our general appearance there wasn't much of a disparity; we were haggard and pale, rail-thin with our clothing hanging off us limply. I tugged on my skirt and jumper self consciously and shook my hair back out of my face. If Professor Lupin had the good grace to look pleasant than I could do the same.

"So, Mr. and Mrs. Millay, you are interested in having your daughter educated outside of an institution," Mr. Pucey began, "I am sure you're aware of the difficulties that such a course will take but as you have owled me, I am sure you are ready to purse this path."

"Have you been able to locate a teacher yet?" Dad asked.

I held my breath.

"Yes, we have," Mr. Pucey answered, "Professor Lupin is an excellent choice."

**CALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHEBLOODCALLOFTHE**

We were the only passengers to get off at Hogwarts station. Rain still dribbled down from the black evening sky and off the eaves of the station house. As we collected our luggage and packed it into the waiting couch, we were thoroughly chilled. My joints ached with the cold and I cursed the cold summer days that England was often plagued with.

"I'm freezing," my teeth chattered together as I huddled in the couch, "Why am I s-so cold?"

Throwing an arm around me and wrapping me in his cloak as well, Professor Lupin, whose own lips were blue, rubbed my icy fingers between his scarred hands.

"It's a worsening symptom," he said his speech shaky with the chill, "In my opinion the worst."

Miserably I huddled beside him as the carriage carried us close and closer to the castle. Even my fear of being close to a grown man was overcome by the raw need I felt for warmth. It seemed to take forever to reach Hogwarts, and we seemed to go around a hundred corners and up and down a thousand hills before the road was illuminated by rows of rosy torches. Just the sight of their orange flames made me feel better and the next thing I knew we were stopping before a massive entrance lit on either side by three large lanterns radiating a blue glow.

Standing half in the shadows was a wrinkled, sour faced man clad in a kind of game-keepers clothes with a damp fur bundle on one shoulder.

"There's Filch," Professor Lupin announced in relief, "He'll see to our bags, let's get side and by the fire right away."

I nodded dumbly as we piled out onto the steps and though the doors to the hall beyond. Maybe the architect had been a werewolf sympathizer because on either side of the entrance were two hearths with blazing fires roaring in the grate. Armchairs and cushions were situated in front of the fenders and I all but fell onto the latter as I tried to soak up as much of the delicious heat as I could.

"—if someone had just bothered to tell me they arrived I would have –Remus! Just look at you, you must be soaked to the skin!"

This barrage came from a tall, black haired witch as she bustled into the foyer in a rush of green tartan. She hugged Professor Lupin briefly and unbuttoned his cloak clasp in a flurry of chatter.

"My dear Remus, I am sorry I didn't meet you just now but that dreadful couch was so late—I declare it gets later and later every journey—and I had gone back to my rooms and this cloak is soaked through! What! Did you both walk here?"

Professor Lupin took this moment to break in, "Professor McGonagall, this is Angela Millay, the young lady I wrote you about. She is just as wet as I am and far more in need of your attention," he said shrugging out of his cloak and peeling off his coat.

"Yes, yes, of course," she came over to where I struggled to my feet. He face was carved with severe lines but her expression was softened by anxiety, "How do you do child?"

"Pretty well," I said trying to keep my jaw from hitching from the cold.

"Well, we'll soon have you right as rain," she said in a business-like tone. She swiftly removed my cloak and tam-o'-shanter with an approving glance and a few brisk movements, "There's a warm supper waiting in the staffroom with a piping hot pot of tea whistling like mad. There, any better?"

She had discarded the wet garments and with a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall had wrapped a warmed blanket around my shivering body. Professor Lupin found a warm, dry sweater of baggy proportions that seemed to suit he perfectly. He met my eyes and smiled.

"Much better Professor. God bless the witch or wizard who invented Heat-Charmed clothing or we'd be icicles for another half and hour. But did you say something about hot tea?"

"And dinner? I perked up. Hunger had made its reappearance since the chocolate bar on the train and it was gnawing away at my innards with a vengeance.

"Right this way," Professor McGonagall directed.

We left the warmth of the foyer bit the charmed blanket continued to warm me. We walked though high and vaulted passages that I had only ever seen in cathedrals. Patterned marble glowed under our feet and the cheery welcoming portraits greeted us in kindly hellos.

"Most of the staff has gone home for the summer but some of us have special projects we wanted to work on while the children are away. Severus was kind enough to come and spend the simmer here for Miss Millay's benefit. And yours too Remus," she added quickly, "He's going to come up with the day's wolfsbane after you've eaten your supper."

"Nobody brews wolfsbane like Severus Snape," was Professor Lupin's rejoinder.

We finally reached a low wide door elaborately carved with small animals and people in a series of four inch panels. Professor McGonagall was disarming several wards when something bizarre happened. Around the corridor bend a little rotund man exploded through the air toward us. His face was scrunched up and his hands were covered in green goo that stank.

Remus caught sigh of him and drew his wand, "Peeves don't you dare!"

"It's an likkle bikkle first yearise!" the hobgoblin cackled lunging for me.

"Peeves you leave her alone!" Professor McGonagall bellowed as I dodged the gooey hands. A charm from her wand bounced off the wall where the creature Peeves had been a moment before.

"I'm not a first year!" I yelled as I jumped aside falling as I did so.

Peeves halted in the air and glared at me, "Not a firstie? Never seen you before—so must be a firstie!"

With that he smeared his disgusting little hands through my hair and went off down the hallway howling like a banshee. Professor Lupin helped me to my feet as Professor McGonagall cleaned my hair with a few murmured words.

"That makes it official, I suppose," Professor Lupin said to McGonagall and I.

"What? What's official?" I asked.

"Your welcome, Miss Millay," McGonagall couldn't help but chuckle, "Your welcome to Hogwarts."

**Review Please**


	5. Awkward Beginnings

**Disclaimer: Not Mine!**

**Awkward Beginning**

I woke the next morning to the bright afternoon sun slanting through my stain glass windows. The fact that I had slept far into the day did not concern me in the least. The fact that I had been able to sleep deeply and satisfyingly was the most important fact to me. My tongue still prickled from the sharp flavor of Wolfsbane, but I felt a kind of affection bloom in my heart toward something that gave me the most satisfying night's sleep I had had since being bitten.

Prof. Lupin had told me that the next day was for recovering from the journey for his sake and for mine. Since there were no claims on my time I decided to shower and dress slowly, taking in my beautiful room.

Prof. McGonagall had given me a room that was usually the quarters of a teacher but had been vacated for a time. It had a large bed with a down mattress and pillows that plumbed themselves whenever I moved. It was heavily curtained but I kept the curtains back so I could see around the chamber. The walls were covered in wood paneling unlike the stone corridors and this lent a warm, cozy feeling to the whole place. A cloak with moving hippogriffs announced the time and a heavy chest of drawers held my clothing.

After showering, I slipped into my old gray school skirt and jumper. Over my right breast was the coat of arms for my old school. A peacock with a spread tail surrounded by laurel leaves. I loved my school and while we were little known and on the poorer end of magical schools, I was proud of it.

I was less impressed by my own appearance. I had lost a dramatic amount of weight during the past few weeks and my once okay figure was gone. Where I had curves I now had bumps and sharp hip bones; my hair had lost its luster and hung around my face in lank pale strands. My eyes, too large and too serious, were a dark gray in the shadowed light by the mirror. I felt my thinking mind behind them, but there was a lack of emotion and feeling in my stare. I blinked and wished there was some way that Wolfsbane could brighten my expression.

At something to take away the dark bruises from under my eyes.

I opened the door to the corridor and found a wide hall, wooden paneled like my room. It was lined with doors similar to my own but it was empty. I checked both ways for Peeves and then headed in the direction of the grand staircase.

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the massive windows over the stonework of the building causing a refraction of tiny glittering points. Portraits everywhere were dozing in the summer warmth only one or two noticed my passing and called out a lazy greeting.

"Angela, good morning," a voice greeted.

I looked to the bottom of the stairs and saw a youngish looking witch waiting for me. She was medium in height and build with soft wavy black hair arranged around her head and tucked under a small purple and yellow witch's hat. She had huge black eyes and a small, neat mouth that smiled at me in a friendly but unsure manner.

"Good morning," I answered uncertainly.

"I'm Professor Sinestra. Professor Lupin is in the dining room eating a late lunch if you want to join him. He sent me along to see if you had woken up yet." She looked me over, "Well, do you know the way to the dining hall?"

"No."

"Then follow me," she said turning away.

I followed in her small wake. Her robes were rich materiel but were cut short enough not to drag on the ground at all. I noticed the small black boots she wore which were obviously charmed not to make a sound on the stone floor. All in all she had a very neat and competent appearance. No doubt my own thin frame and rumpled appearance was less than impressive.

"I see you attend Saint Anselm School of Magic," Prof. Sinestra commented over her shoulder, "What year are you in?"

"I was just getting ready for senior year," I told her, "But I doubt I'll be going back there."

"Oh?" She said it is a way that made me wonder whether she was being polite or just disinterested, "What were your major fields of study?"

"My fields of study?" I repeated.

"I mean, what you were focusing on."

"I understand the question," I answered her, "I just haven't thought about it in such a long time that I didn't know how to answer right away. With everything, study has been the last thing on my mind."

She gave me a quick side long glance but said, "Ah, here we are."

We came to a massive open door that showed a large dining room so big you could almost hold a Quidditch match inside. Long tables were set out in four quarters of the room and each was overhung with banners for each household. I saw Prof. Lupin and a few other teachers lingering over a late luncheon at the far end of the room. The smell of food wafted across to me and my stomach growled loudly. Prof. Sinestra jumped a fraction of an inch at the sound and I almost giggled.

"Shall I take you over to them?" she asked trying to cover her slip of composure.

"I think I can handle it," I said trying not to smile, "Thanks for showing me the way."

"Not at all," she smoothed the woven bodice of her gown, "Have a nice afternoon."

"You too," I called after her as she walked away the swish of silk sighing in my ears as I walked across the large expanse of floor. Prof. Lupin spotted me and beckoned me to a seat at his side. I slid into it glad that the topic of conversation was more interesting than I was to the other assembled teachers.

"But it's a matter of tradition," one of them was saying, "The houses have always had a friendly sense of rivalry between them. Keeps the students on their toes and gives them something to fight for."

"Fight over, you mean," a teacher; a stout comfortable looking women grossed, "And tease over. My students are always the butt of the jokes in this school. You don't know how often my students are labeled the 'easy' or 'sissy' students. They're excellent students and I just can't stand seeing them demeaned like that."

"And more often than not it's the Gryffindor and Slytherins that do the teasing," she finished with a shake of her head.

"I understand what you're saying Sprout," a dwarfish man answered in a high and gentle tone, "I don't approve at the entire stigma that the students label each with during the sorting. I found Quinn Hartleroad crying in the corridor because she was afraid no one would take her seriously after being sorted into Hufflepuff."

"Exactly," Sprout shook a finger over her teacup, "I don't approve of it at all."

"The trouble is," Lupin said as he loaded a plate with food, "The prejudices have been in place for so long that it's impossible to shake the children out of them. They know about them even before coming to school. And once the children arrive any hope of stamping it out is useless."

"And it doesn't help matters that some students helped to magnify that prejudice during their own stay here," an oily voiced man said. Lupin glanced up at this man and I followed his gaze to a sour faced teacher with a long nose and long black hair as every bit as lackluster as mine. Looking between him and Professor Lupin I saw a silent challenge in the air.

Professor Lupin poured gravy over the lot of food and handed the plate to me, "That is sadly true," he said quietly, "Unfortunately most children don't know the harm they do until it's too late to apologize."

"Indeed," the teacher repeated. His eyes fell on me then and he addressed Lupin once more, "And who is this?"

My mouth was full of beef and potato so he answered for me.

"This is Angela Millay, a student from Saint Anselm's," he explained as the teachers all nodded and smiled at me, "She is studying privately with me for the time being."

"How exciting," the stout woman said, "I'm Madame Sprout, the Herbology teacher here."

"Pleased to meet you." I nodded. I wanted to be polite but my stomach was demand ding food at an alarming rate.

"And this is Professor Flitwick, our Charms professor and a very dear friend, this is Andrew Shipley our new History of Magic tutor, and this is Severus Snape, our Potions Master."

Each one nodded in turn and smiled. All but the one named Snape; his black eyes flickered over me and away. I didn't mind as he seemed rude and was rather ugly.

"I hope you enjoy your stay with us," Mr. Shipley said in a voice that was oddly soft and half whispering, "let us know if there's anything you need."

"Thank you," I answered. I waited for a beat to go by before I began eating again. Madame Sprout turned to professor Lupin and began asking more questions.

I shoveled food into my mouth as fast as I could without looking disgusting. There was beef and ham and steaming potatoes and great buttered dishes of broccoli and peas. A glistening heap of rolls was flanked on either side by strawberry jam and a bowl of new butter. I piled as much onto my already full plate as I thought I could eat and added a little more after that. Apparently another side effect of Wolfsbane was that food was filling at least for a little while.

"Enjoy it while you can, Miss Millay," Professor Snape said suddenly at my elbow, "It only lasts a single twenty-four hour period. I would also suggest you create a cover story for yourself so when people ask you what a student is doing in school during the Holidays you can answer with something more than an open mouth."

I was so shocked I simply watched him move away and leave the room. How could he? How could he ruin my meal and insult me all in the same breath? Who did he think he was anyway?

"More jam?" Mr. Shipley offered.

"No thank you," I answered distractedly.

Mr. Shipley looked after the black figure and said, "Don't worry; he's like that to everyone. It isn't you."

"It certainly felt like it," I replied.

"See here," he said shifting around in his chair, "He's a rude chap, that's sure, but he's a brilliant potions master. He just doesn't like people. He razed me something terrible my first day."

I shrugged it away, "I don't care. Really."

"Just don't worry," he said and smiled, "Tea?"

"Thank you." I said and I really meant it.

**CalloftheBlood**

"Take a seat," Lupin directed, "Anywhere is fine."

I slid into a desk near the front.

"Now," he said handing me a scroll and a pen and inkpot, "I want you to write a list of your hobbies."

My finger froze over the pen half dipped into the ink, "My what?"

"Your hobbies," Lupin said moving up to the front of the room and throwing open the shutters with a flick of his wand, "Your interests and dislikes. I want to know your favorite color and your favorite personality trait. I want to know whether you like pumpkin juice of butterbeer, I want to discover if your Zodiac sign is Libra or Gemini. Tell me your birthday and your ambitions for yourself. In short" he spun on his heel so he was facing me once more.

"Tell me everything," he said.

I looked down at the parchment, "I don't know where to start."

"Wherever you like," he said walking back to my desk, "Take as long as you wish."

"No,--seriously, I don't know where to start." I felt my hand trembling and I closed my fingers around the pen, "I don't think I understand what you want."

Lupin considered me for a moment. Then he sat on the desk in front of me and tucked his wand behind his ear, "I think I know what you're trying to say, Angela. Your reaction is perfectly normal and everyone who is bitten goes through this stage. You don't know who you are anymore. You don't look at things the same way."

"I'm a werewolf," I blurted out, "How can I look at things the same way? Things like—favorite colors and butterbeer are all stupid to think about when I think about being a werewolf and not a normal girl. It's just so pointless."

"Angela, nothing that makes up who you are is stupid or pointless," Lupin said fervently, "Every fact is a tiny detail that composes who you are as a young woman. You can't allow being a werewolf to overcome everything you are as a human being."

I looked down to where he was clutching my hand in his fingers. The pads of his fingers were slightly rough and worn, gentle and yet I felt the steel bone under them; my hands were like that now. I pried my hand loose and set the pen on the scroll, pushing it toward him.

"Then since you've got it all figured out, you write it down."

I stood walked to the doorway of the classroom but that was as far as I got before I heard Professor Lupin calling after me.

"Stay on the grounds, Angela. It's not safe anywhere else here."

I licked my lips and considered going back but I remembered what he wanted me to do and I straightened my back.

"Okay."

**CalloftheBlood**

"I knew you'd find me," he smiled when I found him. I had wandered the grounds for over and hour before I found my sire leaning against a tree. He was playing with yet another flower.

"I knew you'd be here," I answered scuffing the toe of my shoe into the dirt, "What are you doing here?"

"Coming to see you," he said looking up swiftly from under his eyelashes. It struck me for the second time how unlike this man was to the savage that had attacked me. This fellow was almost effeminate in his manner, while my sire had been brute and violent. He was very unlike Lupin, I thought.

I faced him bitterly, "How did you get in? There are wards all over this place."

"Ways and means, darling, ways and means," he went on his voice silky and soft, "How have they been treating you? Nearly sent you off to Mungo's didn't they? After our chat in the park—I've almost missed you since then."

"And now you've come in time to seen how I handle the moon, aren't you?"

He flashed a smile that displayed brilliant white teeth, sharp and gleaming, "Of course. You could always spend it with me, you know. I would look after you and show you the way of things. A world of delight lies before you if you would only allow yourself the chance to grasp it."

"Not my idea of a good time," was my lame response, "I suppose that raping me was part of the delights that you mentioned."

"To be perfectly candid—that wasn't my idea," he confessed suddenly a little ashamed, "You see the man I work for was rather keen that you—experience a little something more than the usual. I don't bat for that team you understand."

I trembled with humiliation and shame as the memories of my rape washed over me once more, "I hate you."

"You don't," instantly he was up right and angry, "I tell yourself that but it's a lie. You can't keep yourself away from me. And why? You ask yourself that every time you feel the tug. I'll tell you why, because you're linked to me in the most intimate of ways."

He was backing me up against a tree, breathing hot and fast in my face. I felt panic and terror building up in me. I was afraid for a thousand reasons.

"And I made you mine in every way possible. You are my lover, my victim, my child and my heir. You belong to me, Angela. Who cares about you more than I? no one. They will try to make you forget, try to make you 'safe' but you'll never be the same person you were before. Don't—" he tipped my chin upward, "Cry—there is nothing to weep over. You," he kissed the tip of my nose, "are a better person for it."

"I'm –a—mon—ster," I stammered, "You made me a monster."

He smiled beautifully, "Yes, I made you and someday—you will thank me for it."

He kissed me full on the mouth, his actions like those of a lover and I felt every ounce of me rise up in revolt. I pushed him away and ran crying hysterically for the safety of Hogwarts castle. I ran until my legs threatened to give out under me, I ran until my sides ached and my lungs burned for air. I ran until my eyes were black and sightless with tears and until I collapsed at the feet of my teacher.

**AN: Thank you to all those who have reviewed. I can't tell you what the reviews mean to me. I hope you enjoyed this.**


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